


It's a lot like Dungeons and Dragons

by trr_rr



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail - Freeform, Blood, Fantasy, Gore, Hannibal is dramatic, I Wrote This On My Phone, It's all in hannibal's head, M/M, Master/Slave, Memory Palace, Mention of scars, Ridiculousness, Roleplay, Service Top, Violence, action later, nightmare stag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trr_rr/pseuds/trr_rr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal's memory palace is vast. He likes to play there often and guess who he likes to play with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The challenge

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write them interacting in the memory palace having fun and being kinky. Updates will be slow as I'm on my phone. Not beta read.

There are many rooms in the palace of Hannibal's mind. To reach them, one must pass though vast, frigid wastelands with trees that claw at the sky and ground hard enough to deny any attempt at burying the dead who lay against rocks and fallen branches.

There are warm summer places, visited by Hannibal often. Happiness lives in the lush true-green grass. Water flows softly and day never ends.

Then there is the fort itself. From afar you'd be forgiven mistaking it abandoned. Empty windows, many shattered from years of neglect, disallow viewers seeing any further. Few would consider crossing the moat. The hollow shell stands on misty unkempt ground, hardly worth the trouble, no doubt as empty inside as it appears.

Inside though, oh inside, the halls are vast and golden. Light shines through what on the outside appeared to be tiny broken panes of glass. From the inside, the beautiful stained glass bleeds colour onto the deep red runners. 

Candles glow, stacked upon hooks and chandeliers. There is a Devine reverence to the air, one would speak only in low whispers if one found any reason here to talk at all. 

Ancient stone is carved in a classical style around doors that seem heavy but not unwelcoming. Large iron handles, key holes and knockers adorn each entrance. Some are chained and bolted shut. Some are thick clear bulletproof plastic and accessible with keycard and password only.

Hannibal wanders his great palace with his hands clasped at the dip of his lower back. His shoes are soft on the carpet and he smiles to Abigail as she and Mischa pass him, laughing as they turn into a room where they can be alone together. 

Hannibal is not the king of this castle. He wears no crown and does not sit upon a throne. He is free, under no obligation to rule or take court with men who would want to tax his land. 

There are no knights. His loved ones need only exist here and the land is fortified.

One dragon still lives. He glides overhead and seeks weakness in the stone walls. He admires Hannibal's many sacred treasures, people he has brought close, memories he would regret losing.

But tonight Hannibal does not seek a battle. He is here to meet with the only one he truly shares rooms with.

The door he stops before is large. It is unlocked, always.

Inside there is a set of black iron gates. He pushes them aside and is always awed by the beauty of the hall. White marble floors, exquisitely painted high ceilings, the most perfect room for a throne.

He stops at a small shrine to light a red candle. He places it among the many others, as he does upon each visit, and turns to walk the aisle.

He steals a glance, forbidden, before he is down on a knee, head bowed in utter servitude.

"Lecter." Will's voice is powerful, playful, Hannibal hears it as a prayer upon those lips. 

"Your Majesty." Hannibal breathes, head still bowed.

"Stand up. I hate it when you bow for so long."

Hannibal does as he's commanded. He stands gracefully, discovering that his outfit is now that of some Elizabethan Lord. 

His hair is long, swept neatly into a bun at the back of his head, knotted with dark ribbon. A fringe of hair is still allowed to fan across his forehead. He has shorts, though the multitude of dark pillowed fabrics allow modesty. He's clad in some type of tight, stiff waistcoat which is embroidered, black on maroon with matching buttons. There is a dagger at his belt, though it really is useless here but to represent his sexual intent towards the object of his longing.

He likes the tights and leather boots that stop just below his knees.

His shoulders are slightly padded and adorned with a half cape affair.

"You look like a set of curtains." Will laughs upon the full sight of Hannibal's costume.

Will is crowned. He sits on a high throne with a lazy slouch. His feet are bare and his clothing is, to, Hannibal at least, breathtaking in its attention to detail.

He has a small soft ruff, modest as it peaks white over the collar of a beautiful jacket. Gold on cream, delicate stitching that runs across his chest and all down his long sleeves that meet his pale wrists with cuffs that softly match the pleating of the ruff.

His own trousers are three quarter lengths, there is a chain for a time piece tucked into his belt and a small velvet purse beside it.

His hair is swept back under the crown, which is a delicate thing, gold antlers that drip with rubies and diamonds alike. His dark beard, cut through with a scar, gives the almost angelic outfit a masculine counter point. 

Light beams down, illuminating Will with a halo that Hannibal knows will follow him wherever he moves within this room.

"You know these clothes are completely mismatched and inaccurate. What time are we supposed to be in?" Will takes his cellphone from his pocket and checks his texts, just to prove a point.

"Whatever time you wish. I am your humble servant through time, my lord."

"Pff. Ok. This is pretty cool. I'll allow it... But there's something missing." Hannibal smiles as Winston trots to lay at Wills bare feet on the marble. "There we go. Much better. Ok I'm ready."

"Your Majesty, you called me here urgently, how may I serve you?"

"I want a burger."

"A burger?"

"Do you question me?"

"No, my lord, never." Hannibal places a hand over his heart.

"So go get me a burger. And I want fries and a coke. Go and be quick about it or I'll have your head chopped off." Will smirked but Hannibal took the command, bowing his head as he left.

He returned quickly, as bid, with a golden platter. Hannibal knelt at the steps of the throne, holding the plate high, lifting away the cloche to reveal a magnificent burger with fries, ketchup and a small coke.

"Aw yes, perfect." Will took the burger in both hands. Winston sat up and whined as he watched his master take a large, filthy mouthful and moan. "Mmmm, Lecter, you're good."

"Thank you, Majesty. I long to serve you in anyway you need." He was still holding the plate, looking up at his king enjoying the meal as he knelt.

"You know," King William mumbled around a few fries, "if you really wanna prove yourself..."

"What is it my liege? Anything."

"Anything?" Will smiled, dripping special sauce from his burger all down his royal vestments.

"Truly. I am yours. Naught but a humble slave. Beat me, starve me, ignore me till I cannot breathe for the lack of you if you wish. Anything for the keeper of my soul."

"I'm going to do a lot more than that later, if you take up this challenge."

Will slurped coke through his straw as he thought about it.

"Well, I know you are my servant, but are you brave enough to defend my honour and the honour of those I command." Will gave Winston a pat.

"Yes, please, let me prove myself for you."

"There is a beast, a particular creature that haunts us at night."

Hannibal dared not take his eyes from the king.

"It lives in the wild, it changed shape, sometimes appearing as a dark horned man, sometimes as a beautifully terrifying hart. Capable of great violence and stillness alike, it must be killed with hand and blade, no bullet, gunpowder or poison can harm it."

"In the great forest?" Hannibal let the plate down and Winston instantly began to wolf up the fries.

"Yes. You know the monster?"

"Intimately." Hannibal proffered his scarred wrists to Will. "I have fought and lost the powerful creature you speak of."

"Ok, Hannibal, I get the metaphor, the stag is part of my wrath but to be honest Matthew brown was a hawk...he's the one who did all the stabbing and hanging."

"Yes, your majesty."

"And I'm not sending you to kill a hawk, am I?"

"No."

"Ok. Go kill it and bring me back it's head. I want a crown made of dark oily feathers."

"At once." Hannibal bowed and left with a flourish of his cape.

"So dramatic, why can't he just fantasise about doing it in public or with another guy like regular people? Why do we have to live in a castle? He's such a nerd."

Winston did not understand what Will was saying but the fries tasted wonderful.

 

-


	2. Hannibal is OP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal encounters the beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having too much fun with this.

There was no need for a horse in the wastelands, Hannibal was easy on his feet as he crunched over frozen stiff clumps of grass.

He headed north, the great forest silent and dark ahead. Hannibal kept his sight on the tree line, not turning even when he heard the loud snap of a fallen twig behind him.

Once he met the trees he rubbed his hands together, the slight chill nipping at his fingers. 

"Would you like to join me, Abigail?"

Abigail peaked slowly around the trunk of an oak and smiled in that wonderful sheepish way.

"Sorry." She offered.

"No need to apologise. You have always been a hunter, and I see you are dressed for the occasion."

Abigail's modern green hunting jacket and rifle were an odd sight next to Hannibal's fancy garbs.

"Why are you wearing a cape?" She swallowed a giggle, pressing her lips together.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Hannibal offered his arm for Abigail to hold onto, so he might guide her through the woods. 

They strolled leisurely over the crisp fallen leaves, mindful not to tread on rare wild flowers and fungi. Hannibal noted the properties of each out loud and suggested meals and wines that would compliment each strange looking mushroom.

"Have you seen this thing before?" Abigail said. "I thought bullets couldn't kill it."

"They cannot," Hannibal smiled, "we only want to draw the beast out, weaken it sufficiently so I can make the final blow."

"My dad taught me how to track the deer after they go down the first time. Some of them keep running for ages after they're shot. It's like they're trying to outrun death."

"One cannot outrun the inevitable."

"They most of the time got caught up in barbed wire and broke their legs struggling . I remember those ones the most."

"Well, we will just have to make the first shot count."

Abigail nodded, full of willing but unsure determination.

Her shy grin faltered, faster than she could anticipate, Hannibal took her into a sleeper hold and held the small dagger to her throat.

"What are you doing?!" 

"Are you ready, Abigail?"

She cocked her rifle, Hannibal had curiously not restrained her arms.

And on cue, the great black stag stepped heavily into view. Abigail's gasps perked its ears high, deadly focused and alive.

The sky swirled from constant white to deep inky black. The moon swelled to fullness and the stars unclosed their eyes to watch.

The stags black eyes sought Hannibal's in intimidation. It's cloven hooves scratched at the ground as it threw its head around, eager to rend flesh and gore the man who threatened its only child.

 

"I'll do it again, do not force my hand." He shook Abigail, pushing the knife to her throat tighter.

The stag shivered, it's sharp quills fluttering, black slime dripping from its snarling maw. 

"Do you want me to shoot it?!" Abigail cried, awkwardly taking aim.

"It's you or the beast, Abigail." Hannibal whispered.

Hannibal laid a kiss in her hair and the stag snorted. It reared back on its hind legs, charging in a blind unseeing rage.

Without hesitation a shot rang clear and true through the trees. It toppled forward and Abigail fell away. Her gun clattered to the frozen ground, hands seeking out the scar around her neck, checking it was still there, checking she was still healed.

Hannibal groaned loudly, the weight of the struggling beast upon his chest. 

"Oh, my god, I'll help!" Abigail stuttered. 

They worked together, heaving the still living body into it's side as it kicked and bayed loudly.

The stags plush covered crown of tines were easy to grapple with. Hannibal stood over the beasts neck as it bowed in pain. It's ribs heaved and thick blood oozed from a well placed bullet that had ripped clean through the chest and out through the back.

Graceful and neat, Hannibal hauled the head back by its antlers. The creature heaved bile and sputtered a screeching wail as Hannibal's dagger tore apart the thick black throat.

Unbelievable amounts of blood flooded all around them. Hannibal's boots, arms and face were spattered liberally. Abigail stood with a disgusted sound as the life flowed around her, washing away the frost to reveal loamy soil and plush moss underfoot.

As the blood disappeared, soaking back into the forest to feed new life, the sky returned to its dull white coverage. The stars went back to sleep and the clouds moved slowly above.

"It won't be dead for long. It's spirit is unpredictable." Hannibal observed as he severed the stags spine and carved at connective tissue. "One body cannot contain a soul determined to survive."

"Oh , my god, are you actually cutting its head off?" 

"Of course." He tore hard, smirking at the satisfying crunch-snap of tissue parting with cartilage.

"You mean decapitating it isn't going to stop it?" Abigail picked up her rifle, wiping it clean with her sleeve as she observed the beasts carcass. "It's looks really dead."

"Yes. It does, doesn't it." Hannibal smiled, fastening a length of rope around the dripping stags head. He threw it over his shoulder and situated it comfortably for the walk back.

"You weren't actually gonna, uh, cut my throat, we're you?"

"Of course not." Hannibal stroked his fingers through her hair as they made their way out of the forest.

"Phew, haha, good to know. I guess if I had known that you weren't going to hurt me, the stag wouldn't have appeared, right?"

"Right."

"And I was just the bait, yeah? You don't ever plan on killing me to get back at Will?"

"I'd never dream of doing such a thing."

\--

"Woah, you actually did it?" Will's eyebrows shot up at the sight of Hannibal covered in viscera.

"Yes, my lord." He bowed, dumping the huge head of the stag at the foot of the throne.

Winston's tail wagged as he sniffed and licked at the rancid thing.

"Gross."

"I traveled far and beheaded the beast. I hope my performance was to your satisfaction, majesty."

"Yeah, it was pretty cool." Will shrugged and sat forward. "So, I suppose you want some kind of reward for this? A cheque? A cash prize maybe?"

"I ask nothing but to be your undying servant."

Will rolled his eyes.

"You're so predictable, I know why you're here. You only come here for one reason."

Hannibal let his eyes sweep up Will's body, from his bare feet to his muscular legs, up his petite but masculine frame, all the way to lips from which he'd never dream of stealing kisses.

"You look filthy. Go clean up and meet me in my bedroom. I'll fill the tub while I wait for you."

"Thank you, my king." Hannibal took Will's hand in his own and placed a chaste kiss over his knuckles.

"Pff, get out of here."

\--


End file.
